A Father's Influence: The Making of Joyce
by jago-ji
Summary: We were all innocent little children at some point in our lives, even Joyce Barnhardt. Usually there is a pivotal moment that serves as a defining point in how we think of ourselves and how we interact with others. This is Joyce's.


**A Father's Influence—The Making of Joyce Barnhardt**

_**Or All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten**_

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing them for a brief look back in time about 25 years ago. This is a not-for-profit trip, no money changed hands.

_Excerpts From JE's Stephanie Plum Books_

_"Fine!" I shouted. "Just keep her out of my way! I __hate__ Joyce Barnhardt!"_

_And everybody knew why. At the tender age of twenty-four, after less than a year of marriage, I'd caught Joyce bare-assed on my dining room table, playing hide-the-salami with my husband. It was the only time she'd ever done me a favor. _

_We'd gone through school together, where she'd spread rumors, told fibs, ruined friendships and peeked under the stall doors in the girls' bathroom to see people's underpants. _

_Joyce Barnhardt had been a fat, buck-toothed, sneaky little kid who spread rumors, picked at emotional wounds, spit on my dessert at lunchtime, and made my school years a nightmare._

_She'd made my life a misery. Joyce publicized secrets. When she didn't have a secret she fabricated stories and started rumors. I wasn't the only one singled out, but I was a favorite target._

_When I was in first grade, Joyce threw my crayons in the toilet. When I was in second grade, she spit in my lunch. In third grade she told everybody I didn't wear underpants. In fourth grade she said I had three nipples. In high school she somehow took a picture of me in the girls' locker room and had it made into a flyer and distributed two hundred._

_She'd been a fat kid with a terrible overbite. The overbite had been minimalized by braces, and by the time Joyce was fifteen she'd trimmed down to look like Barbie on steroids. She had chemically enhanced red hair done up in big teased curls. Her nails were long and painted, her lips were high gloss, her eyes were rimmed in navy liquid liner, her lashes gunked up with blue-black mascara. She was an inch shorter than me, five pounds heavier and had me beat by two cup sizes. _

_By the time she was twenty, the fat had all gone to the right places. She dyed her hair red, had her breasts enlarged and her lips plumped, and she set out on her chosen career of home wrecker and gold digger. __She had three ex-husbands and no children. It was rumored she had sex with large dogs._

_Looking back on it all, I had to admit Joyce had done me a favor by being the catalyst to get me out of my marriage to Dickie. That didn't alter the fact that Joyce will never be my favorite person, though._

**The Making of Joyce Barnhardt**

The little girl was beside herself with excitement. Today she was going to school…to kindergarten…for the very first time. Her brother Kevin told her kindergarten wasn't a real school, but she ignored him. She was going to be riding the big yellow school bus and sitting at a desk in a classroom with a bunch of kids her age. _That_ was real school!

Her brother had been going to school for two years and every day she watched from the window as he waited on the corner for the school bus to pick him up. The bus was filled with kids of all ages, laughing and shouting to their friends. _Friends!_

She didn't have any friends. Her mother had not allowed her to make friends, saying the neighbor kids were uncouth, rough and rude. Her mother repeatedly told her that all kids were bad, they would do and say things to hurt her and she should stay far away from them. She wasn't allowed to play outside with the neighborhood children, she never learned to ride a bike, and she never went to the public pool or the playground. Her mother would only allow her to play in her small backyard either alone or with her big brother.

Her big brother wasn't much fun to play with. He was everything her mother had said was bad about kids. He teased her, he hit her, he broke her toys and refused to share his things with her, yet he was always stealing her things, especially her dresses. He called her Fatso, Bugs Bunny and McBeaver Face. Her mother thought the nickname Bunny was cute, so that was what she called her daughter. Every time he heard it, her brother would make exaggerated gnawing gestures with his teeth and say, "What's up, Bugs?"

Because her brother was so skinny and she was overweight, her mother made a point of giving him double portions of food. Her mother would give him his dessert and then looking right at her daughter, her mother would place a second dessert in front of him saying he would get Bunny's dessert until she lost weight. Kevin gloated over every favor his mother bestowed on him and withheld from his sister.

She was slowly learning how to defend herself against him. The morning of her first day of school, she'd found a dead sparrow filled with maggots in the backyard and had tucked it into Kevin's lunchbox between his ham sandwich and double portion of chocolate cake. This was one dessert of hers he wouldn't be eating.

Her mother had laid out the brand new dress she was to wear today. The dress was much fancier than she normally wore and it was a size too small. Her mother had purposely bought it that way to force her daughter to lose weight before the school year started. Her strategy backfired and her daughter now bulged out the top of the dress. The dress' color was an unflattering shade of red that made her looked washed out and sickly. Bunny hated it.

The little girl had mousy brownish orange hair that refused to lay flat or hold a nice curl. Instead it frizzed with the least amount of humidity and there was a rogue cowlick on the top of her head. She had pale skin with a light dusting of freckles over her entire body. She also had a prominent overbite, which is why her mother called her Bunny and her brother called her Bugs.

That morning as her mother looked her over, she shook her head and glared at her daughter. "I told you to stop eating so much, but would you listen to me. _Nooooo! _And now you look ridiculous in that dress. You said you wanted to make friends at school. Well, no one wants to be friends with the fat girl. You could be such a pretty girl if you would only lose weight, Bunny."

Her mother tried to rearrange the horrid prissy dress so that Bunny didn't bulge out so much, but it was a losing battle. Bunny could smell the familiar odor of liquor on her mother's hot breath as she leaned over her. This wasn't going to be a 'good' day for her mother. Bunny knew by the time she got home from school, her mother would be passed out on the couch. Dinner would be takeout again, which was fine with her since her mother's feeble attempts at cooking usually resulted in inedible meals at best.

As her mother brushed the tangles from her daughter's hair, she began a familiar litany. "Your father should be here today. He should be waiting on the curb with me watching you get on the bus for your first day of school. _But no_, the bastard decided he didn't want anything to do with you." Her mother yanked on the brush, eliciting a yelp from her daughter as she dragged the brush through a snarled knot. She continued with her ranting, "The moment I told him I was pregnant again he packed up and left, the coward."

"Listen to me, all men are lying, cheating scum. Don't trust any of them. All they want is to get into your pants and then they abandon you as soon as their seed takes hold. Your father left us with nothing. No money, no house, no respectability…only shame and embarrassment. Stay away from men, or better yet, screw them over before they screw you. Because they will screw you, every chance they get. Mark my words, Bunny."

The little girl had no idea what her mother was talking about, but she heard the bitterness in her mother's voice and the anger in her mother's touch. It somehow revolved around Bunny and the father she'd never met. Her mother had repeatedly told her that her father had abandoned them because of Bunny. How could her father hate her before she was even born? But she knew her mother blamed her for her father leaving them and for the fact they never had much money. And that somehow, because of this, all men were scum.

Bunny tried hard to push all this from her mind. It was her first day of school, the day she'd been waiting for months to arrive had finally come. Her mother finished Bunny's hair, hustled her to the front door and thrust a hand-me-down 'Lone Ranger' lunch box into her arms. Her brother had a new 'Darth Vader' lunch box, and Bunny got his old one. She didn't care; she was finally going to school.

Bunny skipped down the steps and out to the street to wait for the school bus. She had no idea what going to school really meant, but as long as she could be a part of the laughter and have friends, she didn't care. Her mother and brother followed her to the curb, her mother giving last minute advice to both of them on 'not taking any guff' from the riffraff that attended public school.

Bunny quivered in excitement when the bus turned the corner and drove down the street toward their house. It pulled up to the curb and with a loud whoosh, the bus door folded in on itself like magic. As Bunny started to climb up the bus steps, her brother grabbed her collar and hauled her back rushing up the steps past her. She lost her grip on her lunch box and school bag, spilling the contents down the steps and into the gutter. The bus driver glared at her as she hurried to pick everything up and stuff it back into their respective containers.

There was lots of laughter on the bus, but since the laughter was aimed at her, Bunny wasn't enjoying it. The other kids started booing and throwing bits of their lunch, pencils and erasers out the windows at her. She finally trudged up the bus steps to the jeers of the other kids. Her brother was the ringleader, calling her names like 'bumbling, bucktooth blubber butt' and 'fang-toothed, fumble-fingered fatso.'

She sat down in an empty seat and hugged her bags to her chest staring at the floor of the bus. Tears coursed down her cheeks. All hopes and dreams of finally making friends and enjoying school were dashed with one tumble into the gutter.

When the bus arrived at her new school, Bunny was the last to get off. She watched as all the kids trooped up the steps and into the large two-story building where the teachers were waiting to lead the children to their respective classes.

Bunny couldn't take anymore pointing fingers or laughter at her expense. Instead of following the rest of the children, she shuffled over to the side of the building and huddled in the corner hugging her lunchbox to her chest and quietly crying to herself. To a five-year old it must have seemed like a lifetime, but in a few minutes her new kindergarten teacher, Miss Collins, came looking for her. She spoke softly to Bunny and dried her tears with a tissue. She immediately became Bunny's favorite person.

After a short talk, Bunny agreed to let her lead her into the building and to the kindergarten room. Miss Collins found her a desk up front and began the class (again) with roll call so Bunny could hear the names of all her classmates. When Miss Collins called out 'Joyce Barnhardt' Bunny didn't respond. Miss Collins prompted her with a gentle look and finally Bunny piped up, surprise in her voice, "That's _me_…my mom always calls me Bunny." The class giggled a bit, but it seemed a nice kind of laughter, so Bunny laughed too. This was the way school was supposed to be.

The rest of the morning went by without incident. Miss Collins spent most of the time introducing the children to each other and to their classroom facilities and daily routine. They even got to color with crayons. Miss Collins asked them to draw their families and told the class by the time they 'graduated' from kindergarten they'd be able to write their name on the picture. Bunny drew a picture showing her mother with a halo of curly red hair and large breasts. She was holding a little girl's hand. The little girl also had red hair, but was stick figure thin. There was a tall skinny boy in the background holding a dress.

During the morning recess break, the teacher led the children out to the K-3 playground and after a brief reminder to share the equipment showed them the swings, slides, monkey bars and jungle gym.

When Bunny tried to climb up into the jungle fort, several older kids blocked her way telling her it was only for the big kids. One of the boys pushed her off the ladder onto the sandy ground and her tight new dress ripped a little at the seams.

Her eyes started to fill with tears until an older boy came over and helped her up. He pulled her along behind him and they climbed up onto the fort's platform. Her brave defender dared anyone to challenge their right to be there, but all the kids backed off and left Bunny alone as long as the big second grader was with her. He was tall with dark wavy hair and deep brown eyes. He was the most beautiful boy Bunny had ever seen and he was _her champion_. It almost made up for her earlier humiliation at the bus.

As they stood there on the platform overlooking the playground, he turned to her and introduced himself, "I'm Joey." She blushed as she felt his eyes on her. She couldn't tell him her baby nickname, not this older boy, her champion. Glancing quickly up to meet his eyes before bobbing her head back down she mumbled, "I'm Joyce."

Joey nodded and climbed higher up on the fort's towers. Joyce struggled to follow, unwilling to chance being too far from his protection. When they reached the highest point, they looked down on the other children in the playground.

Joey turned to Joyce and, as the wiser second grader, advised, "Don't let 'em walk all over you. You gotta stand up for yourself. It's all in the at'tude." Joey straightened up to his full height, puffing out his chest and putting on a fierce face. "The biggest thing is don't show fear and never cry. Get them before they get you."

She simply nodded, absorbing every word spoken by the older boy perched next to her. In a few short moments he'd become her hero and now her mentor. His words became her mantra. She spent the rest of the morning smiling and enjoying her first day of school. Until lunchtime…

At lunch, she overheard Joey telling his friends he'd seen a really cute girl during recess and was going to give her his cupcake with chocolate icing and sprinkles. Bunny was thrilled beyond belief and waited for him to approach her table where she sat eating all alone. As he swaggered toward her, she looked up and smiled at him, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at another girl sitting at a table behind her. Bunny turned to look at the girl. She recognized her from kindergarten class, but couldn't remember her name.

"Would you be my cupcake?" Joyce heard Joey say as he confidently placed the sweet confection in front of the little kindergartner with curly brown hair and blue eyes. The little girl was cute and skinny and when she smiled up at Joey, she had beautiful straight teeth, not the ugly buckteeth Joyce had. A wave of jealousy surged through Joyce, followed by a heavy sinking feeling in her tummy.

This one act devastated Joyce. She ran from the lunchroom in tears and hid in the girls' bathroom and cried and cried. All she could think about was how much she hated that curly-haired girl and how she'd stolen her champion away from her.

Her teacher found her and called her mother. That was the last day of kindergarten for Joyce. By the time the first day of elementary school started the next fall, Joyce was a changed little girl. She'd taken Joey's advice to heart and would make sure she got them before them got her, especially that curly-haired, boy-stealing skank, Stephanie Plum.


End file.
